I can stand this no longer. I set spur to my horse, and go dashing on towards the camp.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE FLIGHT AND THE CHASE.
The very last thing I had seen that cool Argentine commander do, was to light a fresh cigarette with the stump of the old one. The next time I saw him, he was standing by his wounded horse, in the moonlight, with a spear wound in his brow, but smoking still.
The onslaught of the savages had been for a while a terrible one, but the soldiers came in time, and the camp was saved.
Hardly knowing what I did—not knowing till this day how I did it—I had put my good steed at the breastwork, and, tired though he was, he fairly cleared it. Next I remember hewing my way, sword in hand, through a crowd of spear-armed savages, finding myself close to the ladies' caravan, and next minute inside it.
A single glance showed me all were safe. Aileen lay pale and motionless on the sofa. Near her, revolver in hand, stood my brave aunt, and by the stove was old Jenny herself.
'Oh, bless you, dear boy!' cried auntie. 'How glad we are to see you!'